I wrote the above "joke" after VorGuy fell off a roof on Friday, woke up Ambrosia Hino (who still lived at home) to call me so I could drive him to the airport (instead of the emergency room).............I returned his rental car (and ended up taking him to the airport later) after I spent hours trying to force him into the car to see a doctor. He finally ended up driving to see a doctor at the base (two thousand miles away) on MONDAY (three days later) and was chewed out for "failure to take proper care of military equipment". He was shocked at being chewed out and even more shocked when Ambrosia Hino and I both said "we told you so". (edited to clear up chronology a bit)

Thought I'd let the other women on the board with uncooperative spouses know that it isn't just THEIR spouse who does this...........even though it isn't funny when you are dealing with the man you love being too stubborn to go to the emergency room or the doctor.

My friends dad helped a friend hang sheet rock one morning. Came home to eat lunch, told his wife his chest hurt, and she should take him to the ER. Wound up being airlifted to major hospital.

After surgery (he's fine!), the medical caseworker came in to get a history. She asked if he had any chest pains in the hours/days before the heart attack. We thought his wife was going to kill him when he answered "My chest hurt for a couple of days, but I thought it was just pneumonia, and I needed to get some things done this week.

Just pneumonia...not like that would cause any problems for a 65 year old man on a ladder

My Dad went to a scheduled appointment at the Doctor's office. The Dr asked him how he was feeling. My Dad told him. The Dr immediately drove him to the emergency room.

It turns out he'd had a heart attack the day before.

3 weeks and a triple bypass later, he was out of the hospital and on the long road to recovery. Took him longer, because it took him so long to get medical help.

Luckily my FIL had just attended a company first-aid class that described how to tell if you were having a heart attack. So when he was out on his surfboard, he knew what was happening and what to do. He got in, peeled off his wetsuit, and drove himself to the nearest emergency room (he didn't have his phone). He walked in and said "I think I'm having a heart attack".

3 days and a quadruple bypass later, and he was on the road to recovery.

Oh, I see you're all either my stepmothers or my sisters, possibly nieces.

My father hates doctors (other than the woman he's dating, of course). He truly believes they're all out for nothing but money and refuses to go to one unless things get really bad. He recently had to go to one to get blood pressure medication and they found that his PSA is sky-high, but he refuses to have any further workup because, get this, "They're always giving cancer treatments to people who don't really have cancer."

I'm worried about him, yes, but it's not like you can argue with someone that irrational!

My DH used to be like that, and thank heavens, he found a doctor who's almost as much of a smart-aleck as him, and can actually talk him into doing smart things. He's on some much-needed antidepressants and so forth now.

Heh, my darling other half spent eight hours in a boat, twenty miles out to sea with severe chest pains. Occasionally he'd have to lie down because it hurt so bad and he was having dizzy spells. He refused to come in because, "the fish were biting." Turns out he had a collapsed lung. By the time they got in and he decided it might be an idea to go to hospital, his lung had deflated to the size of my clenched fist. He's since had two more collapses and the specialist is convinced it's because he cause damage by taking so long to get help the first time. So the moral of the story: tuna are not more important than lungs.

Considering I've only been married four months I probably *shouldn't* have a story like this already!

-And I'll substitute 'unconscious' for 'unable to walk'.

Ace hates the doctor, as most men seem to, but two months after we got married he went to play paintball with his friends.

He got hit in the back about seven times and at one point stood up awkwardly and wrenched his back good and proper. Could barely walk, and had to lie down in the back-seat of his friends' car on the way home.

They drove the 120kms home with him in the back-seat making hissing noises every time they hit a bump, and when he got home (I was at work) he came in and laid down on the lounge room floor where he promptly "fell asleep" - I'm pretty sure he passed out, actually - I came home three hours later to find he had crawled from the lounge to the kitchen and had managed to extract a beer from the fridge and was lying underneath the dining room table sipping from the bottle.

'They didn't take me to the hospital because it's just a twinge. I'll be fine tomorrow!'

I rang my brother (6'7" and 220lbs[got it converted for better understanding]) who came over and helped me load Ace into the back of the car and take him to casualty.

He'd slipped a disc in his lower back and pinched his sciatic nerve as well. They kept him there for two days before he could walk again and sent him home with a prescription for Oxycodone in doses that could fell a horse, combined with high-level Valium that the nurses told me would 'keep him placid'.

Two weeks off work was ordered, but he tried to tell me after just 24 hours at home that he really should get into the office because his work would be piling up!